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Merrill 


BY 

MARJORIE TALBOT 

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(G. L. S., 'o6) 



1906 

MAYHEW PUBLISHING CO. 
Boston 


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LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

APR 11 1906 

Copyright Entry 
CLASS ^ XXc. No. 
' ^COPY B. 


Copyrighted 

1906 

Mayhew Publishing Company 
Boston, Mass. 




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4 


CHAPTER I. 


Imagine, if you can, a raw, grey day, 
one of the sort which makes you feel like 
lolling in front of an open, crackling fire, 
surrounded by favorite books and wreaths 
of white smoke from a friendly old pipe, 
which you peacefully puff at. It was on 
just such a day that this story opens. The 
scene is laid on the Southwestern coast of 
France, not many miles from Cape Breton, 
where a jolly old inn-keeper has kept an 
inn for many years for the few and far-be- 
tween tourists who visit the place. The inn 
itself, formerly an old chateau, is perched 
high up on the rocks and commands an un- 
interrupted view of the blue Atlantic. On 
this day of early Spring the ocean is not blue; 
it shares the general dull tone of greyness 
which sky, rocks and the old, weather-beaten 
inn possess. 

Pierre, the host, stood yawning in front 
of the great fire in the entrance-hall, and 
grumbled half-jokingly to his cheerful wife, 
at the loneliness of the place and scarcity of 


MERRILL. 


guests. Scarcely had he finished his tirader 
when suddenly ‘‘toot-toot-’ sounded outside 
on the hard, rocky road, which had once 
been a drive-way for the chateau, but was 
now used as a public way. As automobiles 
rarely passed the isolated place, owing to 
the roughness of the road, Pierre forgot his 
dignity for the moment and rushed to the 
door, at the same time with his equally cor- 
pulent wife. As a result they met in the 
doorway and stuck there, being able to go 
neither frontward nor backward for some 
seconds, until Madame Pierre turning side- 
ways allowed her worthy husband to escape 
and then followed. 

The sight which met their astonished eyes 
was surely worth all their trouble to obtain it- 
A large, white automobile was drawn up in 
front of the inn. In the tonneau were three 
women, veiled and furred, so that nothing 
could be seen to give a clue as to their age, 
or identity. A man, also in furs and goggles, 
was preparing to assist the ladies from the 
car, though two of them were laughing so, 
having seen the collision of Pierre and 
Madame, that they could not make up^ 
their minds to get out. The third woman,. 


MERRILL. 


evidently a maid, had raised her veil and was 
gazing seaward with stolid countenance, 
as if it were nothing to her whether they 
stopped or went on. This much Pierre noticed 
as he bustled forward, volubly expatiating 
on the advantages of his inn, compared to any 
other, and promising most hospitable treat- 
ment. The ladies, followed by the maid, 
finally alighted, and the taller one said to 
Pierre, “We, my friend, maid, and chauffeur, 
will spend the remainder of the day and the 
night with you, if you can promise us good 
entertainment.” 

“Yes, yes, madame,” Pierre hastily ex- 
claimed, “and your beautiful car, too, it 
shall go into the stables behind the inn, 
where once were horses, but now, alas, are 
none.” And having pointed out the way to 
the haughty chauffeur, Pierre once more 
turned his attention to his guests. The one 
who had spoken had not yet raised her veil, 
but her companion had, and Pierre glanced 
at her with appreciative eye. She was small, 
with light, fluffy hair and very dark brown 
eyes. Her face, while not beautiful, because 
of rather irregular features, was most at- 
tractive. She had a fresh color, all her own, 


3 


MERRILL. 


Pierre noted with satisfaction, and every 
time she smiled, which was quite frequently, 
she disclosed very white, even teeth, like 
pearls. In her dark brown furs she made a 
charming picture as she looked laughingly 
up at her taller companion who spoke to her 
in low tones. 

Pierre broke in upon the conversation with 
an apologetic smile. He had, for a long time 
in his youth, been a chef to an English noble- 
man, so he could talk English almost, if not 
quite, as fluently as the two ladies. ^‘You 
will enter if you please,” smiled Pierre, and 
held open the door for them while his wife 
hurried in ahead to look over the larder. 

The two ladies at once repaired to the 
settle before the fire, without removing their 
wraps further, while the maid stood meekly 
behind them with her usual vacant look. 
Pierre, in the meantime, was burning with 
curiosity to look upon the face of the veiled 
lady. The few words she had addressed to 
him were uttered in such sweet yet ringing 
tones that Pierre thought the possessor of 
such a voice must indeed be beautiful. Nor 
was he disappointed. Even as he watched 
them the one still veiled spoke to the maid, 


4 


MERRILL. 


and the maid in turn asked Pierre to escort 
them to their rooms. As he was about to 
lead the way the ladies suddenly took off 
their outer wraps and gave them to Pierre 
to dry, for the dampness had covered their 
coats with little beads of moisture so that they 
looked as if it had been raining on them. 
As the taller one removed her veil Pierre 
looked at her eagerly but was disappointed for 
the minute. He saw a high-bred, sensitive 
face, pale as death, and with deep black shad- 
ows under the eyes. And sad, — Pierre thought 
he had never before seen so sad an expression 
on human countenance. 

After disposing of their things Pierre led the 
way to their chambers, which were on the 
ground floor. As he was about to leave them 
after seeing them ensconced in adjoining 
rooms connected by doors, a sudden impulse 
moved him. ‘ ‘ Does madame desire anything ? 
A cup of cocoa perhaps, to stay the strength 
until luncheon?” asked Pierre, addressing his 
queries to the taller lady, whose white face 
looked still more ghastly because of its frame 
of raven-black hair. She smiled suddenly on 
him, showing teeth even more beautiful than 
her companion’s, and looking straight at him 


5 


MERRILL. 


out of wonderful eyes. Pierre gasped as he 
saw them, and forgot to pay attention to her 
answer. One cannot blame him. Hew as not 
the first to, looking into those eyes, forget duty, 
himself and everything. They were large, 
seeming greater still because of the circles 
under them, and at first sight seemed dark 
brown or black, but they were neither. Have 
you ever seen a dark purple pansy — almost 
black? That was the color of her eyes; 
a velvety purple with a sad expression lurk- 
ing in their depths, but yet which seemed to 
denote a hidden sense of humor and gave the 
impression that they might laugh quite heart- 
ily even though the lips were unsmiling. 
She was smiling with both eyes and lips now 
as she watched Pierre coming to himself, and 
wondering how he could have so far forgotten 
himself as not to hear her orders. He looked 
shamefacedly at her. “ My lady, I beg your 
pardon, most humbly, but I was thinking of 
other things. Would you most kindly re- 
peat your commands?’’ With the smile still 
in her eyes she said, “Ah, Pierre, you must 
be more careful of that treacherous mind 
of yours! My friend. Lady Harvey, desires 
a cup of coffee. As for me, I think I will 


6 


MERRILL. 


wait until luncheon, which I trust is not far 

Pierre almost forgot himself again, while 
listening to her low, yet exquisitely thrilling 
voice. It reminded Pierre, who was an ar- 
dent church-goer, of certain chords on the 
great organ, which though often heard, 
always gave him an indescribable sensation, 
half of pleasure, half of pain. Hastily gath- 
ering himself together, he left the room to 
carry out ^^my lady’s” — as he persisted in 
calling her — orders. 

As soon as he had disappeared. Lady 
Harvey appeared from the next room, and 
smiling affectionately at her friend, remarked, 
‘‘My dear Merrill, I can’t for the life of me 
see what you do to them all ! Is it necessarily 
fatal or do some get over it?” My lady, or 
Merrill, as she may now be called, laughed 
outright at the half-earnest, half-joking tone 
of her friend, and returned, “Surely, Helen, 
you ought to know if anyone does. Are 
you not my best friend ? As for poor 
Pierre, I could see that he disapproved 
of me at first, and out of pique I tried 
to dazzle him. Perhaps I succeeded- and 
perhaps not; that’s not for me to say. — 


7 


MERRILL. 


But come, dear, tell me about your latest 
trouble with Jack while I change my clothes, 
as I see you’ve very wisely done already.’' 

Merrill was gazing out over the cold, grey 
ocean, as she spoke, and did not see the look 
of pain which flitted, for an instant, across 
Helen’s face. They were more like men than 
women, these two, as regards their friendship. 
Deep as their affection was for each other, 
during the ten long years in which they had 
been close friends, never a caress had passed 
between them, of an endearing nature. 
Now Merrill turned from the window, and 
putting her hands on Helen’s shoulders, 
looked deep into her eyes as if to read every 
fleeting expression. Helen would have given 
worlds to fling herself into Merrill’s strong, 
tender arms and pour out her troubles, but 
she dared not. Convinced though she was 
of Merrill’s affection for her, she still was 
afraid of offending her by some little impul- 
sive act which Merrill, in her proud strength, 
would consider weak. So she controlled 
herself with an effort, and standing there with 
Merrill’s clear eyes upon her, told her piti- 
ful yet common enough story. Merrill of 
course knew all except the very latest 


MERRILL. 


developments but for your benefit I will 
briefly go over the main facts. 


9 


CHAPTER II. 


Helen Mansfield was left an orphan and 
heiress at the age of eighteen, both mother 
and father dying within a month of each 
other of fever, then epidemic in Florida where 
they were passing the Winter. The guardian- 
ship of Helen was entrusted to the only sister 
of her father, an ambitious, crafty old lady, 
who wished Helen to marry a title. Helen, 
though usually possessing quite a will of 
her own, was so overcome by the death of 
her parents, that she meekly obeyed her 
aunt in her wish to take a house in London 
for a year. There, as was natural, Helen’s 
beauty and wealth quickly brought around 
a throng of admirers, as many as even her 
aunt could desire. Helen cared nothing for 
any of them until she met “Lord Jack”, 
as his many friends called John Reginald 
Montfort Harvey, twelfth earl of Strafford. 
Helen was instantly attracted to him and he 
to her — partly for her wealth, but mostly, 
I’ll do him the justice to say, through an 
ardent but fickle love. Helen only knew that 


lO 


MERRILL. 


she loved him and he loved her. She thought 
nothing of the future, and so, when he 
humbly asked her to be his wife, she joy- 
fully accepted. He was devoted to her for 
about a year, and then she discovered his 
true character. “Lord Jack” was not in- 
tentionally vicious, but when a man is young, 
extraordinarily handsome, rich, and an heir 
to an old and honored title, he must be pop- 
ular. He was spoiled — that was the whole 
amount of it, and when Helen was once 
his, he began to sigh for new worlds to con- 
quer. He became infatuated with a cer- 
tain chorus girl at the Gaiety Theatre, and 
Helen saw him seldom. Then he got over 
that and fell deeply in love with one of his 
beautiful tenants, who for some time resisted 
his advances, but in the end succumbed. 
After that he went from one affair to another, 
always smiling, jesting and handsome. In 
the meantime a son had come to Helen, who 
loved him passionately, as the image of 
“Lord Jack,” but little Jack, too, was taken 
away through death. In deepest sorrow 
Helen secluded herself in one of her country 
houses, and for a time refused to see any- 
one. 


II 


MERRILL. 


Through all her love for “Lord Jack^’ had 
not once faltered, and she constantly hoped for 
his repentance and return. Just at this time 
a neighboring lord and lady gave a large 
house party, in honor of the great American 
actress who was then playing in London. 
Merrill Marlowe was then in her twenty- 
fourth year — and recognized everywhere as 
the greatest American actress of the day. 
She had been born in Ireland but with her 
parents, who had since died, she moved to 
America at an early age, and always claimed 
the United States as her home. Something 
about Helen interested her at once and they 
soon became close friends. During the next 
ten years they constantly corresponded, and 
were together whenever it was possible. 
During that time, Helen, only too glad of a 
confidante, told Merrill, unreservedly, all her 
troubles. So Merrill, although she had 
never seen “Lord Jack”, had learned all 
Helen could tell her about him and despised 
him from the bottom of her heart. As Merrill 
had been steadily mounting in her career, she 
had had little time for even her close friends. 

At the time this story begins Merrill was 
in her thirty-fourth year, and had a world-wide 


MERRILL. 


reputation for her wonderful acting — and 
pure, noble character. Never had the 
slightest suspicion of stain rested upon her 
name, and she had more temptations in a 
year than ten average women have in a life- 
time. She had been working beyond even 
her superb strength and now was seeking rest, 
after ruthlessly cancelling all Spring engage- 
ments with her agonized manager. A cable 
to Helen notified her and in MerrilPs great 
white automobile, almost as well known as 
she herself, they set out to find rest and 
health for Merrill, and forgetfulness, if pos- 
sible, for Helen. They had toured Northern 
France, but everywhere Merrill was recog- 
nized and lionized, so at last, in sheer despair, 
they sought out-of-the-way places, such as the 
old grey inn. At the hotel in which they had 
passed the night, a letter was handed to Helen 
just as she was starting out. It was from 
^Tord Jack’ Vhom Helen had neither seen nor 
heard from for over a year. Her first im- 
pulse was to press it to her lips, her second, 
to tear it up without reading, and her third 
and last, to read it calmly and dispassionately 
in MerrilPs presence and act altogether on 
her advice. 


13 


CHAPTER III. 


With Merrill’s loving, sincere eyes rest- 
ing on her face, Helen briefly explained how 
she had received the letter, and that she 
wanted to read it aloud to Merrill. Merrill 
started to object, as it hurt her terribly to 
witness the suffering of her friend, for she 
feared the letter would only contain news of 
more scandals participated in by ‘‘Lord Jack.” 
Helen looked so excited about it though that 
Merrill could not bear to disappoint her, 
and steeled herself to listen. 

“Helen dearest,” it ran, “If you still have 
any love for a heart-broken, wretched man, 
come to me, sweetheart. I have realized 
at last the wrong I have done you and now 
realize only too fully that I have never really 
loved anyone but you. I love you. Come 
to me. Jack.” 

For a minute after finishing neither woman 
said a word. Merrill would not, and Helen 
could not. Then with a little glad cry Helen 
pressed the letter to her lips again and again. 
“Merrill, did you hear that? He loves 


MERRILL. 


me! He has always loved me! Ah, Jack, 
I knew you would be sorry some day. I can • 
not wait to get to you dear heart!’’ Merrill 
tried to sympathize with her as fully as she 
had always done before, but somehow, she 
couldn’t. am very happy for you dear,” 
she said, and then returned to her window 
with an odd lump in her throat, and a moist- 
ure in her eyes which made her shake her 
head angrily. Helen’s voice aroused her: 
‘^This means the giving up of our trip, but 
you don’t mind, do you, Merrill ? Jack needs 
me so much, every word of his letter shows 
that — I must go to him. Merrill!” she sud- 
denly cried with swift suspicion, ‘‘Why are you 
so silent? Do you think I am weak to for- 
give him so easily? Oh, Merrill! don’t de- 
spise me. I love him so!” 

Merrill turned quickly, and for the first 
time caught Helen in her arms and pulled 
her down beside her on the window seat. 
“Think badly of you, Helen? Is that the 
way you trust my love? I care more for 
you than ever before, dear girl, and if you can 
only be happy now, I shall ask nothing better. 
I was silent because — will you forgive me for 
saying it?” Helen pressed Merrill’s hand 


^5 


Merrill. 


which had been caressing her hair, to her lips, 
“Say anything you like, Merrill. Next 
to Jack I care more for you than anyone in 
the world. What is it? Tell me!’’ 

“Well,” said Merrill, much touched, “I 
was afraid for you ; I was afraid perhaps that 
Jack’s letter is not as sincere as it seems. 
I’ve no doubt,” she added hastily, as Helen 
moved suddenly in her arms, “that he means 
it all now, but I’ve seen a great deal of life, 
dear, and men, especially of the stamp I 
judge ‘Lord Jack’ to be, are proverbially 
fickle. But I won’t say any more about it 
You know how sincerely I hope that his 
reformation is complete. I care only for your 
happiness, Helen.” 

The look of sadness deepened in Merrill’s 
eyes as she held the slight form of Helen close 
to her and gently kissed her hair. There was 
silence for a time and then Merrill began 
again: “I have never spoken to you about 

my life off the stage, Helen. I’m^not demon- 
strative as you know. I tell you now that 
you may believe me absolutely when I say I 
care only for your happiness. You think I 
have many friends. Helen, I have not. 
There is a no more lonely woman on earth 


i6 


MERRILL. 


than I. Of course I have acquaintances — 
thousands of them, but I care nothing for 
them, nor they for me.” 

Helen put her hand over Merrill’s mouth, 
‘‘Don’t say that Merrill, you know it’s not 
true. There is not a man, woman or child 
who ever knew you, who does not love you, 
and not because you are so famous either,” 
she added, hastily, as she guessed what Merrill 
was about to say. “You may not care for 
them Merrill, but they worship you, one and 
all. Tell me, Merrill, how many men have 
told you they loved you?” Merrill rose sud- 
denly, almost upsetting Helen. “Don’t be 
foolish, Helen, that has nothing to do with 
the question! The point is that I have just 
as much love as any woman to bestow. You 
are truly the only human being I care for. So 
you see, dear, what I mean.” 

A rap suddenly sounded on the door and 
Pierre, who in his haste to tell his wife about 
“my lady’s” eyes had entirely forgotten the 
coffee for Helen, announced luncheon. 
Helen and Merrill came to themselves with 
a start. Then Merrill turned to Pierre with 
a regal manner. “Serve luncheon here, 
Pierre. Lady Harvey has been suddenly 


MERRILL. 


summoned away and we wish to save time. 
Also order the automobile to be here in half 
an hour, to take Lady Harvey to Calais.’’ 
Helen looked up in surprise, but Merrill 
silenced her with a look and continued, “I 
shall remain here for some time with my maid 
if you can accommodate me. That is all.” 

Pierre had scarcely turned when Helen ex- 
claimed, will not leave you in this place 
without even means for getting away. Come 
with me, part way at least.” ‘‘No, ” replied 
Merrill firmly, “this is the most restful place 
I’ve yet found, and I intend to stay as long 
as I can stand it. I shall have Babette for 
company if Pierre and Co. bore me. Now 
don’t say anything more! You must take 
the machine. It will get you to Calais 
quicker than any railroad. Now that is all 
planned, so let us eat our attractive-looking 
luncheon. This is the first time in months 
I have had an appetite! Another induce- 
ment to stay, you see,” and laughing gaily, 
though she watched Helen with anxious eyes, 
Merrill began to pour out the chocolate. 


i8 


CHAPTER IV. 


The next morning, the first of May, 
dawned brightly enough. Gone was all the 
dullness of sea and sky. Only the old grey 
inn remained to show how dreary the place 
might look if it tried. 

Merrill, half repenting of her determination 
to remain at the inn, listlessly drank her 
morning chocolate which grim-faced Babette 
had brought her in bed. Suddenly the con- 
sciousness of a new feeling in the air broke 
in upon her, and she hastily rose and dressed, 
scorning all assistance from Babette except 
for her hair. This, deep black, like her long 
lashes, hung in thick folds below her waist. 
Merrill certainly made a beautiful picture as 
she stood gazing eagerly from the open win- 
dow upon the deep blue sea and little white 
sails dotting it in the distance. If it had not 
been for her deathly pallor she would have 
been perfect. Her eyes, shining with life, 
gave promise of the ardent temperament 
within, and lighted up her whole face. 
Babette waited patiently until Merrill drew 


19 


MERRILL. 


away from the window with a half sigh. 
‘‘Ah, Babette, it it not glorious? Every- 
thing seems happy, even the sea. But you, 
you are always solemn and severe. I cannot 
see how you ever came to be named 
Babette. That name should be given to 
some joyous, irresponsible girl, not to you.’^ 
Merrill said this laughingly, as Babette 
brushed her long hair and gazed affection- 
ately at the top of Merrill’s unconscious 
head. They understood each other, these 
two. It was Babette who, when Merrill 
fainted in her dressing room, night after night, 
following some act which kept her under an 
enormous strain, attended to her and at her 
wish kept her break-down concealed from 
everyone until Merrill herself was finally 
obliged to give ud. How much Babette 
loved her, Merrill never knew; she would 
have been deeply touched if she had, but 
Babette concealed her affection beneath her 
stolid exterior and Merrill never guessed. 

“Are not those rocks m.ajestic?” Merrill 
went on, “If we have any more days as warm 
as this I shall see if I have forgotten my old 
art of swimming.” Babette gave a start of 
horror at the very suggestion, but Merrill 


20 


MERRILL. 


paid no attention beyond a slight shrug of 
her broad, beautifully shaped shoulders. 

‘‘Tell me, Babette, have I a bathing suit 
and cap among my numerous articles of ap- 
parel? You know I told you never to let 
me go an)rwhere without them.” 

“Nor have I this time,” grumbling said 
Babette, “but for Heaven’s sake and your 
own. Miss Merrill, don’t go near that icy 
water! Ugh! It makes me shiver even to 
look at it,” and Babette, having eased her 
feelings, thrust the last hair-pin into place 
and handed Merrill a small, silver-mounted 
mirror. 

Merrill took the mirror carelessly and 
dropped it into her lap without looking at 
it. Her thoughts were now far off, on the 
way to England, with Helen. “Poor child,” 
she murmured, half aloud, “it is not right for 
her to have suffered so, and yet how sweet 
and hopeful she is after so many disappoint- 
ments, and how much she cares for “Lord 
Jack.” 

Babette, seeing that Merrill was in one of 
her moods, as Babette inwardly termed them, 
quietly left the room. Merrill rose and went 
back to the window. Sinking on her knees 


21 


MERRILL. 


by it she rested her elbows on the sill and her 
chin on her hands. A hard look, almost 
cruel, came into those wonderful eyes. “If 
‘Lord Jack’ deceives Helen this time and once 
more destroys her trust in him. I’ll — I’ll kill 
him!” Then Merrill laughed suddenly as 
she realized how tragic she had become. 
But try as she would, her thoughts could not 
turn from Helen, and after vainly trying to 
admire the steep, rugged rocks leading down 
to the water, she gave up all pretence. “I 
wish,” she thought, reflectively, “that I 
could meet ‘Lord Jack.’ What wouldn’t I 
give to bring that cowardly trifler in hearts 
to my feet, and then leave him heart-broken, 
as he has done to so many!” 

Happily, Merrill’s plans along this vin- 
dictive line were interrupted. A knock 
sounded on the door and before Merrill 
could give permission to the visitor to enter, 
Pierre bounced in. “Oh, my lady, but you 
must not, you must not! It is so perilous! 
No one has attempted it for years, not since 
my two nephews died. Ah, I beg of you, my 
lady! Do not do it!” Pierre stopped for 
breath, and Merrill looked at him in aston- 
ishment. Her first thought was that he had 


22 


MERRILL. 


suddenly gone crazy, and she decided to 
humor him. 

‘‘Yes, I see,’’ she remarked in an uncon- 
cerned tone, “it was very careless of me to 
even think of such a thing. And your two 
nephews, how long ago did they die, and of 
what disease?” Merrill seemed the person- 
ification of polite interest, as, still kneeling by 
the window with hands tightly clenched to 
restrain her mad desire to laugh, she turned 
to speak to him. 

Pierre’s astonishment equalled her own. 
“Of what did they die, my lady? Why, I 
but now said! Jean, the younger, through a 
crazy spirit of adventure dived from that 
rock — you may see it there, my lady, the 
highest of all at the water’s edge. The water 
is deep, very deep, but where he struck was 
another rock, just covered at high tide. 
Jean hit his head and slipped into the deep 
water. His body was never found. His 
brother Pierre, a beautiful lad when a child 
and named after me, his uncle, dove bravely 
in after Jean. He also struck the treacher- 
ous rock and was killed. His body was 
found and given decent burial, but Jean — 
we never saw him again.” Poor Pierre’s 


23 


MERRILL. 


voice broke pitifully, and he flourished a 
large silk handkerchief for a minute. Mer- 
rill understood now what he had meant and 
raged inwardly at having treated the deaths of 
his nephews so lightly. 

‘‘I am sorry, Pierre,” she said, gently, 
rising from the window and standing in 
front of him, ‘‘I did not at first understand 
you. How old were the children?” 

‘‘They were not children then,” said Pierre, 
“but grown men both, and strong swimmers. 
Pierre was twenty- three, and Jean some less. 
Now you will not bathe there, my lady?” 

Merrill laughed shortly and took a deep 
breath. How good it would be swimming 
out there in the blue breakers, rising high up 
and then falling deep into the trough of the 
next. Merrill almost forgot Pierre at the 
thought. Before she had been obliged to 
give her time so exclusively to the stage, 
Merrill had spent all of her leisure hours out 
of doors. Always an ardent lover of every 
kind of invigorating sport, horse-back riding 
and swimming had been her favorites. Late- 
ly these pleasures had been strangers to her, 
and the mere thought of being there in the 
blue ocean, alone, depending only on herself, 


24 


MERRILL. 


made a faint color rise to her cheeks, and she 
looked like a goddess standing there in her 
proud strength. Pierre looked at her with 
awe. Never had he seen anything so ab- 
solutely beautiful. If his thoughts could 
have found words he would have described 
her as majestic, yet tender; sad, yet strangely 
happy, and taken altogether, a woman who 
was made for men to adore and desire. 

‘‘Pierre,” said Merrill earnestly, “you can 
trust me to take care of myself. If we have 
three more days as warm as this to heat the 
water, I shall start in on my swims. Other- 
wise, not. And remember this,” she added, 
more sternly, “I am not used to and will not 
endure any interference. That is all I 
think.” And Pierre went dejectedly out 
fearing that he had offended “my lady.” 


2 $ 


CHAPTER V. 


In the meantime Helen journeyed to Eng- 
land and arrived in London two days after 
starting. From Calais she had sent a tele- 
gram to “Lord Jack,” brief but convincing. 
“I am coming, Helen,” was all she said, but 
it was enough. As she stepped from the 
train two strong arms caught her and held 
her close for an instant. As “Lord Jack” re- 
leased her, Helen looked almost fearfully 
into his face, fearing to see some, she knew 
not what, great change. But he was the 
same as ever in regard to outward appearance. 
He was a strikingly handsome man. Not 
handsome in an effeminate way, but almost 
excessively manly. Dark grey eyes set in 
a strong smooth-shaven face, looked frankly 
out upon the world which had been so kind 
to him. His lower jaw had no hint of the 
weakness about it which one would expect to 
find. Immense in stature, six feet, three, 
he was correspondingly built, and seemed an 
ideal, healthy, honorable Englishman. It 
seemed incredible that this could be the man 


26 


MERRILL. 


who had all but broken Helen’s heart, dragged 
his hitherto unsmirched, honored name 
into deepest mire, and was the beau ideal of 
all the young rakes and profligates among 
the nobles. His months and years of de- 
bauchery had left no shadows on his high, 
open forehead. Except for the weariness in 
his eyes and the cynical twist of his rather 
full lips, Helen would have almost believed 
the past all a dream. 

No word was spoken as he led her to the 
carriage and assisted her to enter. As soon 
as they were within and the liveried footman 
had closed the door with a bang, “Lord Jack” 
slipped his arm around Helen’s waist and 
drew her close. Outside was the din of 
horses and carriages, but inside was perfect 
quietness and peace. Helen did not attempt 
to resist. All her love and adoration of the 
man came back with triple force. Now her 
head was on his broad breast and her small 
hand in his large, strong one. Still not a 
word was said. When the carriage drew 
up before the house, “Lord Jack” quickly 
gathered Helen up in his arms and lifted her 
out, without her having to touch the step. He 
did not put her down as he reached the 


27 


MERRILL. 


sidewalk, but still held her as he strode up the 
broad steps and into the great reception hall, 
where all the servants were gathered. There 
he gently set her on her feet on the floor. 
Then, Welcome home, my wife,’’ he whis- 
pered, and forgetful of the servants their lips 
met in one long kiss, a kiss of pain, joy, love 
and reconciliation. 


26 


CHAPTER VI. 


The next week was the happiest of Helen’s 
life. Lord Jack seemed to have no thought 
apart from her, as indeed he had not. But 
it was not in the nature of the man to enjoy 
life under such peaceful circumstances. He 
had been sincere — as sincere as it was pos- 
sible for him in his degraded moral condition 
to be — but he could not help wishing for the 
unattainable. When Helen was away from 
him with Merrill, almost heart-broken be- 
cause of his acts, a sudden desire had come 
to him to test his power over her, to see if 
she loved him as she formerly had. Although 
he had never seen Merrill, — his taste ran 
rather to chorus girls and prima donnas than 
to the world’s greatest tragic actress — he be- 
came fiercely jealous of her. What right has 
she,” he demanded, to himself “to keep 
Helen with her and interfere between hus- 
band and wife ? Helen is mine and promised 
to always be so. I will show this actress, this 
Merrill Marlowe, how little Helen cares for 
her compared with me !” So “Lord Jack” had 


29 


MERRILL. 


started out with this idea in view and had 
finally so worked upon himself that he really 
believed he loved Helen, and had repented 
of the wrongs he had done her. 

Now that Helen was his again, he longed 
for new worlds to conquer. ^‘Lord Jack’’ 
might have been a great man, great in the 
sense of powerful and famous. If he had 
lived in other circumstances he could have 
been an Alexander the Great or a Caesar. 
As it was, his remarkable talents were rap- 
idly going to waste, his ambition bounded by 
petty jealousy and desire for revenge for fan- 
cied wrongs, and his personal courage daring 
to rashness, led him from one trouble to 
another. Helen could not hold him long, 
she had not the power. No woman he had 
yet met had been able to really arouse his 
better nature. The fact that he internally, at 
least, was as corrupt as ever, showed that he 
had never truly loved. For it needed just 
that to bring out the few good qualities which 
he still possessed. 

During the week in which “Lord Jack” had 
been so devoted to Helen, she had told him 
much^'abou tf Merrill ;|how beautiful she was, 
what a loyal friend, and how, though she 

[30 


MERRILL. 


continually had riches and titles of every 
sort at her feet, she refused them all, because 
she could not give her love too. Then, 
laughing gaily, Helen told him how Merrill 
had doubted his sincerity at first, and feared 
to let Helen go to him. Now ^‘Lord Jack,’’ 
once more tired of Helen, remembered all 
this and a wicked look came into his grey 
eyes with their curly black lashes, longer 
even than Helen’s. But would the scheme 
work ? By dexterous questioning he learned 
all about Merrill that unconscious Helen 
could tell him, and he soon had his plans 
laid. Absolutely without conscience, he had 
no scruples about leaving Helen again. The 
servants might talk but he cared nothing for 
them, and as he and Helen had not gone at 
all into society as yet, his absence would not 
be noted publicly. 

Helen had no time to prepare for the blow. 
Lord Jack was no procrastinator. On the 
fateful morning he was as considerate and 
seemingly devoted as ever. After a late 
breakfast he set out, for the club, he said, 
but when he had not come home either to 
luncheon or dinner, Helen began to fear the 
truth. She fought against the idea as long 


31 


MERRILL. 


as she could, but to little avail, and a telegram 
coming late in the evening confirmed her fears. 
The words seemed to stand out in letters of 
flame before her dazed eyes, ^^Have gone for 
good this time. No use looking for me. 
Jack.’’ Helen gave a little moan and then 
sank down with a broken heart onto the 
couch,- before which only the evening before. 
Jack had knelt, kissing her hands and whis- 
pering tender words to her. What was the 
matter with her? She could not think of 
anything! What was that name now? Ah, 
yes, Merrill, Merrill — Merrill. 


32 


CHAPTER VII. 


During this time Merrill had been en- 
joying herself in her own way. The much- 
desired three warm days had come, followed 
by three more, and Merrill recklessly kept her 
promise. What mattered it to her that her 
name was on everyone’s lips who had ever 
heard of her, and that her agonized man- 
ager was searching high and low for her? 

The time, even though only a few days, 
of absolute rest had done wonders for her. 
In spite of the combined prayers of Pierre, 
Madame and Babette, Merrill in her blue 
bathing suit and cap to match, had cautious- 
ly clambered down the dizzy rocks to the 
water and after carefully examining that 
particular spot for hidden rocks, she dove 
lightly in. It was cold — more than that, icy, 
but Merrill had a strain of obstinacy in her 
character which caused her to call up to the 
fearful trio, through chattering teeth, ‘‘You 
three old babies, ought to come in. The 
water is just cool enough to be exhilarating.” 
Merrill dared not say more lest the chattering 


33 


MERRILL. 


of her teeth betray her, but taking long, 
even breaths and strokes to match, she raced 
herself straight out to sea for a quarter of a 
mile, and then tired, but warm and contented, 
she turned over and floated, idly counting 
the white clouds skimming overhead. When 
she was sufficiently rested, she started back 
for the shore, now swimming and now float- 
ing, as the mood seized her. She found the 
three mourners, as she laughingly called them 
to herself, in a state of collapse because of 
her long swim and stay in the water. Merrill 
laughed away their fears and lightly ran to 
her room, where, after a brisk rub-down, 
she instantly demanded luncheon. 

Although Babette shook her head over 
Merrill’s rashness, she rejoiced in her re- 
newed color, elasticity and last but not least, 
her disgraceful (as Merrill called it), appetite. 
It seemed as if nothing could satisfy Merrill’s 
energetic longings. After luncheon in her 
room, she went into the entrance-hall, where 
Pierre, as usual, was standing in front of a 
roaring fire. Natural heat seemed to make no 
impression on him. No matter how warm 
the day, Pierre always desired a fire and was 
unhappy without one. Going up behind him 


34 


MERRILL. 


Merrill viewed with quiet amusement his 
round form encompassed by a large white 
apron, and his pinky, round bald head. 
Merrill was tall for a woman, taller in fact 
than most men, so she looked down at Pierre 
and could get a good view of his shiny head. 
Pierre had not heard her come in, but he 
felt her gaze, and suddenly turned in deep 
embarrassment : 

‘^You wish something, my lady? Did not 
the luncheon suit you or are you dying from 
the cold water and desirous of a doctor?” 

“Neither the second nor the third, my 
Pierre,” said Merrill, as she revealed her 
white, even teeth like rows of pearls, in a daz- 
zling smile, “but I do want something. 
Will you obtain it for me?” 

“My lady knows I will do any possible 
thing for her,” said Pierre, rashly, for he had 
hardly finished when Merrill broke in : 

“I knew you would get it for me, Pierre. 
I’ll tell you. It’s a horse!” 

Pierre looked at her in horror. A horse! 
Of all the things in heaven and earth, why 
did she pick out the one thing impossible to 
procure? “My lady, it is impossible,” he 
said simply. 


3S 


MERRILL. 


Merrill looked keenly at him for a second. 
Then seeing that he was in earnest, she be- 
came earnest too. “I suppose it will be 
rather hard to get but I am willing to pay 
any amount to get a good one, not too meek 
and well- trained.” Here Merrill smiled to 
herself at some amusing recollections of 
horses in the past, ‘^not too meek and well- 
trained.” Pierre pensively watched the fire, 
then, “I will get it,” he said. ‘‘When do you 
desire it?” 

Merrill answered promptly, “Tomorrow.” 

With equal promptness Pierre answered, 
“You shall have it,” and then he bustled out 
to start off on his quest. Merrill looked 
thoughtfully at one of the great andirons. 
“Dear Helen,” she whispered, “I wish I were 
sure you are perfectly happy.” 


36 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Another beautiful warm week passed. 
Merrill’s only anxiety was that she had not 
heard from Helen. Merrill strove to con- 
sole herself with the old proverb, “No news 
is good news,” and the conviction that Helen 
would turn to her in trouble sooner than any- 
one else. But in spite of herself a premoni- 
tion of evil would not leave her, but hung over 
her, deepening every day. 

Pierre had obtained the horse for her, 
a beautiful but unruly animal, and wholly 
unused to the saddle. As Merrill rode cross- 
saddle she had not much trouble in pro- 
curing an outfit for the horse, and in her 
black skirt, plain white shirt-waist and a dark 
purple tie to match her eyes, she soon became 
a familiar sight to the few appreciative peas- 
ants who dwelt around. She never missed a 
day from either her swim or ride and even 
calm Babette became imbued in part with 
Merrill’s excitement. Never before had Mer- 
rill looked so beautiful, and her purple eyes 
showing now only laughter and love of life 


37 


MERRILL. 


in their depths, and her white teeth, revealed 
almost always now in a continual smile, 
caused Pierre to wonder more and more who 
she was in the great world, and why she 
seemed so content in this dull little spot. 
If he had known her full name, he would 
have recognized her at once, for even in this 
remote little corner of the world her fame had 
penetrated. But as Babette always called 
her ^‘Miss Merrill,” and Pierre himself, 
“my lady,” her last name never had occasion 
to be used, and Pierre thought “Merrill” to 
be it. 

Pierre had worshipped Merrill since she 
first smiled on him, but as a remote, very 
superior being, who had nothing to do with 
affairs of common mortals. But since her 
spirited fight with “Lord Jack II.” as she 
had mischievously named her horse, his wor- 
ship had become more personal. If 
Madame had guessed Pierre’s state of mind, 
Pierre would have had a hard time, but 
knowing as she did the wide chasm between 
the rich, beautiful Miss Merrill and the roly- 
poly, bald, old Pierre, she never suspected 
that he cared more for Merrill than a distant 
adoration which Madame herself felt for her. 


38 


MERRILL. 


Merrill’s first ride on “Lord Jack II.” had 
indeed been a memorable one. Jacky, as 
Merrill called him for short, was not bad- 
tempered, only unused to a saddle, and full 
of life. Merrill could not give a spring and 
alight firmly in the saddle as she had done 
in her more youthful days; much to her dis- 
gust, she had to stand on a chair and from 
that vantage-point climb onto Jacky’s back. 
That animal stood perfectly still until Merrill 
was in place and the chair removed. Then 
without any warning he suddenly started 
and bolted straight down the road for a ways, 
turned off into a field, still at a mad gallop, 
and unconsciously answering the pressure 
of Merrill’s fearless fingers on the reins, gal- 
lopped swiftly back to the inn through the 
fields and in a few moments was at his start- 
ing place. Jacky was surprised. How had 
he come back here? He did not remember 
turning back, and, angry because of being 
so easily fooled, off he started again before 
anxious Pierre could rush to hold him. Mer- 
rill did not attempt to turn him this time. 
She understood horses and knew he would 
not give in until he had been conquered in a 
fair, above-board manner, and not by any 


39 


MERRILL. 


trickery. She sat easily in her saddle ad- 
miring the long, even jumps Jacky was tak- 
ing. Her former skill and confidence had 
all returned and she was thoroughly enjoying 
herself. On and on went Jacky. Would he 
never tire? Fortunately they were now on 
a wide, level road at the end of which ap- 
peared a dark forest of pines. Merrill sud- 
denly recollected that she knew nothing of 
the way, and once in the forest, might have 
some trouble in getting out Tentatively 
she lowered her hands and tightened the 
reins. Jacky slackened his pace and in a 
moment fell into a walk. They must have 
come fifteen miles, and he was only too glad 
to yield — for the time, since he could do it 
without loss of dignity. Merrill stroked his 
black, smooth neck encouragingly: ‘^Good 
old Jacky, you are a sraightforward foe at 
least! There are no mean tricks of rearing 
and shying about you.” Before the words 
were fairly out of her mouth, Jacky had re- 
covered his breath and his obstinacy with it. 
Suddenly he reared up, up until he stood 
perfectly straight. Merrill’s surprise did not 
prevent her from recalling former similar ex- 
periences, She dropped the reins on his 


4 ^ 


MERRILL. 


neck and threw herself forward on the reins. 
For an instant they, the woman and the horse , 
like one mass, wavered, and then human in- 
telligence conquered brute cunning, and 
Jacky dropped back to his normal position. 
From that time he tried no more tricks, and 
he and Merrill became close friends. 

If Merrill had heard from Helen that she 
was perfectly happy, Merrill would have been 
absolutely contented. She did not even want 
Helen to be with her, for Helen cared noth- 
ing for out-door sports, except automobiling, 
and Merrill, in her new character, considered 
that distinctly lazy. Since the return of her 
machine from Calais, she had not once 
thought of it. 

Another day, like midsummer, came. As 
usual, Merrill prepared to carry out her reg- 
ular program. This was as follows : She rose 
late, about twelve, and combined luncheon 
and breakfast. After that varied meal she 
withdrew to her room where she wrote for 
an hour in her very elaborate diary. She 
hated diaries, but several publishers had 
pressed her again and again to write her 
autobiography, and she had finally agreed, 
as a sop to Cerbeurs, to keep a minute diary 


41 


MERRILL. 


for a time and then hand it over to the eager 
publishers to use as they would. Needless 
to say she put nothing of her real life, hopes 
and feelings in it. It was written for just 
what it was to be, a public document open to 
everybody. After her writing for the day 
was concluded, Merrill would put on her 
riding skirt and usual costume and go for a 
long ride. On her return she took a swim, 
much to the horror of Madame, who prophe- 
sied pneumonia, cramps and sudden death. 

On this particular day Merrill arose with a 
strange feeling of exultation. She felt like 
laughing, then like weeping, and yet like not 
doing either. Just as she, already mounted, 
was setting out for a brisk gallop, Pierre 
rushed from the door with a newspaper in 
his hand. Merrill looked at it curiously; it 
was the first she had seen since her arrival. 

My lady, at last, at last I know who you are ! 
Ah! how blind I was not to have guessed. 
See!” and Pierre held up the paper before her 
wondering eyes. There in big headlines 
was her name, and underneath, a picture of 
her, better than the ordinary newspaper cuts. 

Merrill bit her lip angrily that this hateful 
publicity had followed her even here, and 


42 


MERRILL. 


hastily read the opening lines. It was a 
graphic account, doing full justice to the 
author^s imagination. The pith of it was, 
that Merrill Marlowe, the great actress, had 
disappeared absolutely from the face of the 
earth. No trace could be found of her any- 
where, and her manager and many friends 
were in despair, fearing that owing to her 
ill-health she had been driven to suicide. 
Here Merrill laughed, “Good old Helen,” 
she murmured, “you would not give me away, 
would you?” and turning to Pierre, Merrill 
said sternly, “I want to remain hidden for a 
time, do you understand?” 

“Yes, my lady,” said Pierre humbly, and 
watched her canter over the brow of the hill, 
with a strange pain at his heart. 


43 


CHAPTER IX. 


On one of her former rides Merrill had 
noticed a small by-path hung over with 
newly-green trees and giving an alluring pic- 
ture of rustic beauty. She determined to 
ride through here to-day and see where, if 
anywhere, it lead. The better to enjoy the 
scene she calmed Jacky into a walk and they 
went slowly along, Merrill’s eyes now gazing 
with quick appreciation at some especially 
beautiful picture, and now her mind far off 
with Helen. Suddenly Jacky shied violently 
almost throwing Merrill, who looked at once 
for the cause. There on the right of the nar- 
row road, under an old oak, a man was lying 
asleep. It could be seen at first glance that 
he was not a peasant. His grey flannels 
covered an almost perfect figure. He was 
strongly built with broad shoulders and a fine, 
straight back. Merrill could see only this 
as he lay half on his side, his well-formed, 
close-cropped head pillowed on his arm 
and his other strong, white hand clutching a 
clump of grass. 


44 


MERRILL. 


‘‘Who can he be?^’ Merrill wondered, and 
forced Jacky up to him to have a closer look. 
Then she noticed the beauty of his face and 
unconsciously hoped that his eyes and teeth 
would not spoil the effect. He had wonder- 
ful lashes for a man, she observed, long and 
curly, of the same dark brown hue as his hair. 
Suddenly he stirred, and before she could 
get Jacky into motion he opened his eyes 
and looked up into her face. Even in her 
embarrassment she noticed his eyes and in- 
wardly gave thanks. They completed the 
face, gave a humorous expression to what 
otherwise might have been stern. For an 
instant they looked at each other and then 
he raised his hand to his head, evidently 
feeling for his cap. 

“It is there behind you,’’ said Merrill, and 
then blushed furiously, hating herself for the 
whole proceeding. Still with his eyes on hers 
the man arose and stood by Jacky ’s head. 

“I hope I did not frighten you,” he said, 
slightly smiling. 

“No, not at all! I mean, yes, you did — 
that is you frightened the horse and I was in- 
vestigating the cause of his fear when you 
awoke,” said Merrill incoherently. What 


45 


MERRILL. 


was the matter with her? She had known 
many men of every sort and character, but 
none had ever affected her like this. She 
hastily controlled herself. 

^^Now that I am properly punished for 
being so curious, I shall start on again,’’ she 
said lightly, and giving Jacky a slight kick 
she was off down the road before he could 
say another word. “Lord Jack,” for it was 
he, swore softly to himself and then remarked 
aloud: “By Jove, what a woman, I must 
know her better.” 

Then picking up his abused grey cap he 
set off in the direction of the inn. He had 
already walked ten miles but he thoroughly 
enjoyed it, and strode along now as easily 
and lightly as if he had just started. His 
thoughts were with Merrill and he did not 
notice a round stone right in his way. He 
stepped on it and it rolled out from under his 
foot giving his right ankle a cruel wrench. 
With an exclamation of pain he went down 
on his knees. For several minutes, dizzy 
with the pain he did not try to rise, and 
rested on his side in the dusty road. Then, 
setting his teeth grimly he rose and limped 
down the road. 

♦ * ♦ * * * He 

46 


MERRILL. 


In the meantime, Merrill, riding at full 
speed, tried to rid herself of the curious feel- 
ing which had come over her, but she did 
not succeed very well. ‘‘How tall he was and 
handsome!’’ she found herself exclaiming, 
and then blushed again. “I will not think 
of him again,” and to prove that she wouldn’t, 
she began to recite Juliet’s balcony speech, 
giving her mind wholly to it, and, as usual, 
becoming Juliet herself for the time being. 
The ride had lost its attraction, and she rode 
directly back to the inn. Hastily dismount- 
ing, she left Jacky to Pierre and hurried up 
stairs to make a lightning change into her 
bathing suit. Then, disregarding the ex- 
postulations of Babette, who felt called upon 
to begin the fight anew each day, she ran 
lightly down to the old grey rocks, which she 
considered her especial property, and dove 
quickly over into the water. The day had 
been almost too warm and the water felt 
grateful to her warm body. As she rose to 
the surface she set out with long, even strokes, 
now breast, and now side, as she turned to 
wave gaily to her ever-frightened trio, who 
were peering over the rock at her. Every 
day the same thing happened, the bodyguard 


47 


MERRILL. 


of three marched solemnly down to the 
rocks after Merrill and watched her every 
instant until she was on dry land again. 
Merrill swam straight out to sea, on and on, 
seeming never to get enough of the cool, 
smooth motion. Behind her a huge, black 
cloud was rising and it seemed to pursue her 
as she swam on in blissful unconsciousness. 
Gradually it overtook her and passed beyond. 
Then for the first time Merrill became aware 
of how dark it was growing. In an instant 
she realized what had happened, and turned 
towards the shore, which seemed miles and 
miles away. In reality it was only about 
half a mile but it had become so dark that 
she could scarcely distinguish it. The waves 
increased each moment and for the first 
time Merrill felt the power of the strong 
undercurrent about which Pierre had often 
warned her. She had never come out so far 
before so had not realized the strength of it. 
For an instant she was panic-stricken and a 
huge wave, catching her unawares, carried 
her under. But her natural courage soon 
returned and she struck out bravely for the 
fast-disappearing shore. It was raining now 
in torrents, and it seemed to her as if the 


48 


MERRILL. 


whole world was made up of water. She 
was swimming mechanically now and had no 
thought of fear. Instead she found herself 
wondering if the stranger would feel sorry if 
he heard of her sad end, and she smiled 
grimly as she thought of Pierre, Babette and 
Madame. 

Her mood softened as the thought of Helen 
rose before her and she gave a half uncon- 
scious prayer for Helen’s happiness. On 
and on, it seemed to her as if she had been 
swimming for hours. The rain blew into 
her eyes, and she could no longer see the 
shore. Another thought struck her, and 
even her courage faltered before it. What 
if she was swimming out to sea instead of 
towards shore ? That would explain the 
years she had been swimming without result. 
For surely it had not taken so long for her 
to swim out. “There is no use of strug- 
gling against the Fates,” she murmured 
half aloud, and was about to give up the 
fight, when all at once a great dark mass rose 
out of the water before her and with a cry of 
joy she seized it and clung as if she could 
never let go. An answering cry came from 
overhead, and looking wearily up she saw 


49 


MERRILL. 


the three familiar heads peering down at her. 
Now there were four, and then a familiar 
figure half fell, half scrambled down the steep 
rock until he was on a ledge about three feet 
above where Merrill was clinging. Throw- 
ing himself flat on the rock, “Lord Jack” 
reached down and caught MerrilPs wrists. 
Then, with a superhuman effort, for Merrill 
hung a dead weight, he lifted her gradually, 
inch by inch, until she was on the ledge be- 
side him. For the first time he looked into 
her face. 

“You!” he gasped, as Merrill, too weak to 
move lay on the ledge smiling up at him. 
He had no time to say more for Pierre ar- 
rived at last, having come by a long and 
roundabout, though infinitely safer way. 
By this time Merrill had partly recovered. 

“If you can each give me an arm I think 
I can make the inn more or less easily,” she 
said, her observant eyes on “Lord Jack’s’’ face. 
He was very white around the lips but it 
never occurred to her that this was due to 
any other cause than excitement or fear for 
her. Rising as she spoke, she took Pierre’s 
arm and looked enquiringly at “Lord Jack.” 
With difficulty, suppressing a groan, he got 


50 


MERRILL. 


onto his feet, but when he stepped towards 
her the much-abused ankle gave way, and 
he fell right at her feet. 

“You are hurt! Why did you not tell 
me?’’ cried Merrill, and quite forgetful of 
herself she knelt beside him and unconscious- 
ly caught his hand in hers. He could not 
speak at first, so deep was his shame. Had 
he come here to break this woman’s heart and 
ruin her life ? Gently withdrawing his hand, 
he said, “ Do not be alarmed 1 It is nothing. I 
wrenched my ankle just after leaving you 
and it wiU not bear my weight very well now. 
If you can get along with only Pierre’s as- 
sistance, I think I can manage myself all 
right.” Merrill blushed hotly as she real- 
ized what she had done and turned quickly 
to Pierre. 

“You may help me to my room, Pierre, 
and then come back for this gentleman. As 
for you, sir,” she added, turning back to 
“Lord Jack,” “you keep perfectly still until 
Pierre returns to aid you. I know this rain 
is not especially cheering, but Pierre won’t 
be long, I promise you.” And indeed he 
was not. For as soon as they had reached 
the summit of the rocks Babette and Madame 


51 


MERRILL. 


met them, and Merrill sent Pierre back at 
once to “Lord Jack,” and went at once to her 
room where Babette and Madame coddled 
and petted her to their hearts^ content. In 
a short t'*nie Merrill fell asleep and dreamed 
of grey eyes, now smiling, now dark with 
pain, and now filled with an inexplicable 
longing which grieved her, she knew not 
why. 

And “Lord Jack”? As he lay helpless on 
the rocks, with the cold, relentless rain beat- 
ing down upon him, he saw himself for the 
first time as he really was. Not as a gentle- 
man of high passions and warm tempera- 
ment, but as a cowardly blackguard. Worse 
than a thief, worse even than a murderer, for 
the latter killed the mortal body, while ^‘Lord 
Jack” had sought the soul itself. When, 
not recognizmg his destination, he had 
reached the inn at the beginning of the storm 
and terrified Pierre had told him of Merrill 
far out in the waves, he little thought that 
Merrill and his “beautiful unknown” were 
one and the same. His rescue of Merrill 
only fitted in with the scheme he had formed 
of winning her confidence and love, and it 
was a real shock to discover in her the woman 


52 


MERRILL. 


whose face had been haunting him all day. 
He thought over all this now as he patiently 
waited for Pierre, and the sight of that 
worthy coming down the rocks to him put 
an end for the time to his unpleasant reflec- 
tions. One thought alone remained. He 
had come to conquer Merrill — and he loved 
her! 


53 


CHAPTER X. 


Merrill awoke the next morning to find 
the storm still raging without. Her shock of 
the preceding day had left her strangely weak 
and she said to the faithful Babette, half 
irritably, ^^Do stop hovering around me in 
that ghoulish fashion. I shall not get up 
to-day so you may tell Pierre to send my 
luncheon here. I will eat it without rising, 
And, Babette!” she said suddenly, as the 
maid started for the door, ^‘Do not forget to 
inquire for the gentleman who was of such 
service to me yesterday.” Babette started 
for the door once more and was met just out- 
side by Pierre. 

“How is my lady?” eagerly asked Pierre. 
Babette answered him shortly and was about 
to go on when he detained her. “ I have here 
a note for my lady from the English gentle- 
man. You will give it to her, Babette?” 

“Of course, of course,” snapped the maid 
testily at him and catching it from his hand 
re-entered the room. Merrill disliked ex- 
ceedingly to be interrupted when she was in 


54 


MERRILL. 


a pleasant revery, and she looked at Babette 
now with angry eyes. 

“Have I not told you I shall not rise. 
Nothing could persuade me on a day like 
this! Then why are you back again? Once 
for all I tell you, I am not going to get up.’’ 

Babette stared at her mistress in uncon- 
cealed astonishment. She had never before 
seen her in such a mood. Mutely she held 
out the note to Merrill. It was written in 
pencil on a page evidently torn from a note- 
book, but she cared nothing for that. Eagerly 
opening it she read the following: 

“My Dear Miss Marlowe: 

I hope you will excuse this rude convey- 
ance of my most sincere hopes for your speedy 
recovery. I am glad to say that my ankle is 
greatly improved, and I can hop around this 
old hall quite easily. 

Sincerely yours, 

John Montfort.” 

So that was his name! “John Montfort!” 
It sounded like him, Merrill thought, so 
strong and attractive. Then a sudden im- 
pulse seized her; “Babette,” she called. 
The harrassed maid heard her from half-way 
down the corridor, and hurried back. 


55 


MERRILL. 


^^Did you call me, Miss Merrill?^’ she 
asked, respectfully. For some unknown 
reason Merrill seemed once again in a good 
humor. 

“Yes, Babette,’^ said Merrill, laughing in 
spite of herself at the resigned expression of 
Babette. “I want you to help me dress. I 
think it will be more cheerful in the entrance- 
hall, by that dear old fire, than here alone, 
with the rain beating so dismally on the panes. 
Don^t you ?” 

Babette assented readily enough, and in a 
short time Merrill was ready. She had made 
Babette dress her hair low on her neck, as 
she always wore it on horse-back, and it made 
her look very young. Since she had come to 
the inn she seemed to have lost a year, for 
each day she stayed. It seemed incredible 
that this beautiful young woman had seen 
thirty-four years. The only sign of her 
years and exacting profession were the dark 
circles under her eyes. But even these 
added to her wonderful beauty and made her 
purple eyes, glowing with the hidden fire of 
her high-strung, ardent temperament, con- 
trast strikingly with the dark lashes above 
and shadows beneath. 


56 


MERRILL. 


She went swiftly down the corridor and 
into the entrance-hall where, as always, the 
cheerful fire was crackling. For a minute 
she stood still in disappointment. No one 
was in sight. Then a deep sigh sounded 
from behind the high back of the settle. 
Merrill glided noiselessly to it and looked 
down upon the seat. Stretched out at full 
length on it was “Lord Jack,’’ his injured ankle 
swathed in bandages and carefully supported 
by one of Madame’ s soft, fat cushions. 

Feeling Merrill’s glance he looked up, 
straight into her eyes and a strange thrill 
ran through him. He wished he could kneel 
at her feet and press the hem of her skirt to 
his lips. More than this he dared not hope 
for. He was not worthy. All this and more 
was expressed in his eyes as he lay looking up 
at her. Something of what he was thinking 
suddenly came to Merrill and her heart gave 
a peculiar throb. How white he looked! 
She longed to stroke back the thick, brown 
hair from his broad, white brow, but she re- 
strained herself. 

“I have come to thank you, Mr. Montfort, 
for saving my life yesterday. If it had not 
been for you — ” Here she faltered, for now 


57 


MERRILL. 


those grey eyes, so earnestly fixed on her, 
reminded her of the dream. They had that 
look of inexplicable longing which had so 
grieved her in the dream. She had not 
thought eyes could look so sad. 

^^It is very kind of you to take the trouble 
to thank me,” said ‘‘Lord Jack” in his deep, 
musical voice. “I am sorry that I cannot 
rise and pull a seat for you up to the fire, 
but to tell the truth, my ankle is not so well 
off as I made it out to be in my note. It’s 
nothing serious,” he added hastily, as he saw 
her look of alarm. “Pierre says that I got 
cold in it through the wetting I received yes- 
terday, but I don’t believe it’s that. I think 
the five miles I tramped after wrenching it, 
added somewhat to its weak condition. But 
I have not yet heard you report on your con- 
dition. Did your lengthy stay in the water 
cause any ill after-effects?” 

“Oh no!” said Merrill, calmly tipping 
up the wood-box and perching herself there- 
on. “Water is my native element and I am 
never so much at home as when I am float- 
ing around in the ocean — except perhaps,” 
she added reflectively, “when I’m on horse- 
back. Now I suppose you are an expert in 


MERRILL. 


every kind of sport,” taking in with appre- 
ciative eye, his broad shoulders and mag- 
nificent physique. 

‘ ‘ Not an expert, ’ ’ put in * ‘Lord Jack’ ’ quickly, 
“only an humble follower of sport in general, 
but like you devoted to horses and swim- 
ming.” Here he smiled suddenly at her, 
showing his strong, white teeth and beautifully 
curved, almost girlish mouth, which the strong 
jaw below seemed to contradict. Silence fell, 
and Merrill could feel his eyes scanning her 
face. A sudden shyness overcame her, and 
she rose. 

“I almost forgot some writing I have to do. 
We shall meet again at luncheon. Until 
then — pleasant thoughts!” and Merrill van- 
ished from view. “Lord Jack” lay in his 
place with clenched hands. 

“Pleasant thoughts,” he muttered. “Ah, 
Merrill, if only I had the right to think of you, 
just of you!” 


59 


CHAPTER XI. 


“Lord Jack’’ passed a sleepless night. A 
terrific battle was fought between his good 
and bad spirits. It was all the harder that 
he had allowed his passions full sway for so 
long, and had made no attempt to control 
himself. It was not that he any longer had 
the idea with which he started out, of de- 
liberately gaining Merrill’s love and then 
laughing at her and leaving her. For the 
first time in his careless, wa)rward life, love 
in its fullest sense had come to him. His 
wish now was to see Merrill happy, even if it 
caused his own sorrow. Though the battle 
was a long and hard one, his better self con- 
quered. He would not speak of his love to 
her but would go away as soon as his injured 
ankle would permit, and never cross her path 
again. It did not occur to “Lord Jack” in his 
new-found humility that Merrill might care 
anything for him. His one thought was to 
shield her from the annoyance his devotion 
might cause her, and even worse, the stain 
which would fall on her reputation if it were 
known that he cared for her. 


6o 


MERRILL. 


' ^Xord Jack’’ tossed to and fro on his bed, 
now with clenched hands because of the un- 
endurable pain in his ankle, and now with his 
grey eyes dark with pain as the realization 
grew upon him of what leaving Merrill 
meant. 

Merrill was also having a sleepless night, 
though not as hard a one as “Lord Jack.” In 
all the years of her charming girlhood and 
beautiful womanhood, Merrill had never 
thought twice of any man except in a friendly 
way. Many had loved her and humbly laid 
their hearts at her feet, but Merrill smiled 
half sadly upon them all, and steadfastly re- 
fused every offer. Until yesterday she had 
come to believe that she could not love a 
man. Now this sudden awakening, half 
sweet, half fearful, almost frightened her. 
She had not realized what a store of affection 
she possessed. Helen had never been able 
to bring out in Merrill this fiery passion, 
which neither guessed she owned. So, though 
never guessing “Lord Jack’s” identity, Merrill 
too, tossed to and fro, now hating herself 
for (as she termed it) being so weak and now 
smiling happily as she thought of the light 
she had surprised in his^eyes. 


MERRILL. 


Contrary to her usual custom, Merrill rose 
about nine o’clock. The storm had entirely 
passed, and only the freshness of the grass 
and trees remained to show they had been 
lately invigorated. The sun shone brightly 
and Merrill felt a thrill of happiness run 
through her as she hastily dressed — to break- 
fast with him. She ran lightly down the 
corridor and appeared in the hall, much to 
Pierre’s astonishment, just as “Lord Jack” 
wearily lifted a cup of coffee to his lips. 
Crash! and the coffee, cup and all, fell from 
“Lord Jack’s” hand and splashed all over the 
white cloth of the table. 

^ ‘ Good morning, ’ ’ said Merrill lightly. “I’m 
glad you’re not always as careless as that, or 
I would not be here now! Just suppose,” she 
added turning to Pierre, “what would have 
happened to me if Mr. Montfort had dropped 
me in that excitable manner yesterday.” 

“Lord Jack” had with difficulty arisen, 
while she was talking, and now stood upright, 
one hand clutching the edge of the table as a 
support, while he watched with grave eyes. 
He wondered if she knew his feeling for her. 
She probably, did, ^ he thought half-angrily, 
for had not^Helen often told him that for all 


62 


MERRILL. 


men, old and young, to look on Merrill was 
to love her. His reflections were interrupted 
by Merrill: 

^‘Please don’t stand, Mr. Montfort, I 
am very glad your ankle is well enough to 
permit your doing it, but I am going to sit 
right down here with you, if I may, and have 
some breakfast.” 

“It will give me great pleasure to have you. 
Miss Marlowe,” “Lord Jack” replied slowly. 
He was rapidly losing control, and Merrill 
noticed how the veins in his hand stood out. 
She thought the pain in his ankle was caus- 
ing it and going swiftly to him, she placed 
her hands on his shoulders and tried to force 
him back into the chair. For an instant he 
resisted and they stood there together. Tall 
as he was, Merrill almost equalled him, and 
Pierre, coming back suddenly with fresh 
coffee, could not help noting what a hand- 
some, well-matched couple they were. Trem- 
bling from the touch of Merrill’s hands, “Lord 
Jack” dropped back into the chair, and Merrill, 
with a little smile, went around to the other 
side of the table. She was convinced now 
that he cared for her. Else why had he so 
trembled under her touch. She guessed 


63 


MERRILL. 


nothing of the deeper reason of his agitation, 
and as she faced him across the table, was as 
attractive as possible. 

^‘Lord Jack’’ put away his feeling of depres- 
sion and with it his good resolutions. All the 
brilliancy of the man rose to the surface, and 
while he kept Merrill thoroughly interested, 
her sparkling wit, in turn, charmed him more 
each moment. Breakfast was all too short, 
and they looked at each other with reluctant 
eyes as it drew to a close. 

‘‘I should imagine the rocks would make 
a very attractive spot on a day like this,” 
said ‘‘Lord Jack” suggestively. 

“I’ve no doubt they would,” answered Mer- 
rill, all her natural waywardness coming to 
her aid, “why don’t you go down to them and 
stretch out in the sun ? I’m sure it would be 
most beneficial to your ankle.” And with 
this Merrill ran lightly down the corridor, 
like a perverse, light-headed girl of eighteen 
instead of a woman of thirty-four. “Lord 
Jack” looked after her in pained surprise, and 
then dragged himself painfully to the open 
door and out upon the broad, stone steps. 
Seating himself upon them he gazed moodily 
out over the sea. 


64 


MERRILL. 


Suddenly Pierre appeared around the 
corner, leading a handsome black horse 
wearing a man’s saddle. The next instant he 
heard Merrill behind him, and she came out 
on the steps with a crop under her arm, and 
pulling on her gloves as she waited for Pierre 
and Jacky. She was bare-headed, with her 
black, thick hair done simply on her neck, 
to resist the violent efforts of Jacky to pull 
it down for her. 

^‘What do you think of ‘Lord Jack’? Is 
he not a beautiful animal?” Merrill asked 
“Lord Jack” with unconscious truth. 

“Lord Jack!” he gasped, half rising, and 
the color leaving his face. “What do you 
mean? Who — who is ‘Lord Jack’?” 

Merrill looked at him in surprise, though no 
suspicion of the truth crossed her mind. 

“ ‘Lord Jack’ is the name of my horse. I 
call him Jacky for short,” she added, as 
giving Pierre her foot, she swung lightly into 
the saddle. She gathered up the reins in her 
left hand and with her right solemnly saluted 
“Lord Jack” with her crop. “I beg leave to 
report that I shall be down on the rocks in 
two hours and hope for company,” said 
Merrill, in stiff, military tones and cutting 


6S 


MERRILL. 


Jacky lightly with her whip she wheeled and 
cantered quickly over the hilL 


66 


CHAPTER XII. 


As soon as Merrill was out of sight, ‘‘Lord 
Jack’’ called Pierre to his aid, and using him 
as a staff, slowly made his way down to the 
rocks. There he ensconced himself in a 
comfortable position and prepared for a long 
revery, while waiting for Merrill. But he did 
not have long to wait. The memory of his 
wistful eyes was with Merrill as she rode. 
The slowest walk and sharpest canter could 
not drive it away. “How I wish he was rid- 
ing along here with me! Wouldn’t it be 
perfect?” cried Merrill, aloud. And then to 
show that she was only too glad to be alone, 
she began humming a mournful little song, 
which was all of the pleasures of solitude and 
the unstable qualities of love. She could not 
forget however how his face had fallen when 
she had so flippantly upset his plans for con- 
tinuing their conversation, on the rocks. 
Riding lost its charm, and less than three- 
quarters of an hour from the time she had set 
out, she drew up in front of the inn. Forget- 
ting to give the outraged Jacky his sugar, 


67 


MERRILL. 


she hastened to her room to change from her 
habit into a simple morning dress. The dress 
was of some white stuff, simply made, but 
nothing could have been more suited to her 
unusual beauty. On the dressing table was a 
bunch of violets, the first of the season, 
which Babette had gathered for her during her 
absence. Merrill fastened them into her belt 
and prepared to go down to the rocks. She 
had no idea that ‘‘Lord Jack’^ would be there 
for she was an hour and a quarter early, 
so she looked from her window without in 
the least expecting to see him. Her heart 
gave a sudden leap and a tender look crept 
into her eyes. He was there waiting for her. 
And she inwardly registered a vow that he 
should not regret it. No more precious 
moments were wasted. Merrill hurried at 
once down to the rocks, where the look of 
glad surprise which greeted her was ample 
payment for her shortened ride. 

“It seems an unkind thing to say, I know,^’ 
observed “Lord Jack’’ dryly, “but the last two 
hours were certainly the shortest I ever spent.” 

Merrill started to snub him, but thought 
better of it, remembering her resolution. “I 
hated to think of you here alone with nothing 


68 


MERRILL. 


but a sprained ankle for amusement, and so 
I cut short my ride,’’ she answered frankly. 

^‘Ah, that explains it !” commented “Lord 
Jack.” “The hour you were gone seemed 
three, but I knew that it couldn’t really be 
three, for then it would have seemed like 
nine.” 

Merrill laughed outright. “I never was 
good at mathematics and I grow even worse 
with age, so please do not give me any more 
concrete compliments. I find it is all I can 
do to believe the abstract ones.” 

“Well,” announced “Lord Jack” triumph- 
antly, “this is the first time I ever heard a 
woman admit that she believed a compliment 
of any kind. Is it that you are an extraor- 
dinary woman or I am an extraordinary 
man ?” 

“A little of each, perhaps,” chaffed Mer- 
rill, “you show plainly by that remark that 
the women of your acquaintance are not as 
sincere as they might be. Now if I believe 
a thing to be true, no false qualms of modesty 
can make me say that I doubt its truth.” 

“Lord Jack” looked pensively at Merrill be- 
side him. She was leaning back against 
some convenient rocks, her hands clasped 


69 


MERRILL. 


behind her head, and her graceful form 
showing to its best advantage. The dark 
purple violets, matching her eyes, seemed to 
‘ ‘Lord J ack’ ^ like Merrill herself. He reached 
over and pulled several from the bunch. 
Merrill did not move as he fumbled with the 
violets, trying to find some loose ones, but 
looked thoughtfully down on the close-cropped, 
well-shaped head as just for an instant 
it rested against her. When he had obtained 
the violets, “Lord Jack” leaned back in his 
place and regarded them. A deep silence 
had fallen and neither wished to break it. 
Merrill watched his strong, well-shaped 
fingers as they idly picked over the flowers, 
now bunching them together and then taking 
them apart, only to collect them again in 
some new form. It was “Lord Jack” who 
finally broke the silence. 

“In some way these violets remind me of 
you,” he said half-fearfully. The old “Lord 
Jack” who could give a compliment and a kiss 
at the same time, and mean neither of them, 
was forever gone. Now he looked at Merrill 
but her expression told him nothing, and he 
went daringly on. “They are so beautiful 
and pure. Not the mild, inane purity of the 


70 


MERRILL. 


lily, which is pure because it can’t be anything 
else, but with the purity of a passionate 
character who has been often tempted, but 
through fierce struggles has kept her purity 
and after each fight becomes stronger and 
better, and so I think they are like you. — Do 
you believe that too?” he suddenly asked her. 

Merrill considered a moment. ‘‘I cannot 
judge my own character,” she said slowly, 
“but,” she added earnestly, “I know that 
you are sincere in saying what you have, 
and I should like very much to believe it my- 
self, as implicitly as you do.” 

“Lord Jack” stared at her in glad aston- 
ishment, but his voice trembled a little as 
he said, “You just now said that you knew 
I was sincere. How did you know?” 

“I can read your eyes,” said Merrill 
simply. 

“Lord Jack” closed them to think. His 
brain was in a whirl. Now for the first time 
the idea crossed his mind tha this love might be 
returned, in part at least. In his brain, tired 
with vain endeavors to distinguish right from 
wrong, the old battle was raging. “I was 
ready to give her up,” he argued, fiercely to 
himself, “when it hurt only myself. But if 

n 


MERRILL. 


— if she does care for me, it’s too much to ask. 
I won’t, I won’t give her up!” 

Something of the struggle he was under- 
going showed in his face, as unconsciously he 
looked appealingly at Merrill. In an instant 
she moved to him and caught his hot hand in 
hers. She had acted on impulse thinking 
him to be in pain, but “Lord Jack” could not 
bear more. Half sobbing he caught her 
hand to his lips and held her yielding form 
close. Taken utterly by surprise Merrill 
did not attempt to resist, but shyly touched his 
cheek with her hand . ‘ ^ MerriU, sweetheart 1’ ’ 

was all he could say. Bending his head to 
hers he sought her lips. As he gave Merrill 
her first kiss, he held her closer, closer yet, 
and their lips met and clung as if not even 
death itself could separate these two- 


72 


CHAPTER XIIL 


The next three weeks were the happiest 
of MerrilFs life. There was still no news 
from Helen, but Merrill in her new-found 
happiness scarcely missed it. To “Lord Jack” 
this love was a revelation. The thought that 
this proud, beautiful woman loved him be- 
yond everything brought sadness as well as 
joy. When he was with Merrill and under 
the charm of her companionship, nothing in 
the world seemed to matter except that they 
loved each other passionately. But when he 
was not with her he saw but too plainly, the 
difficulties of the situation. He could not 
marry her and loving her as he did, he would 
not offer her anything less honorable. Ex- 
cept for this they lived wholly in the present. 
Much to his relief, Merrill had not made any 
inquiries about his position in the outer 
world. When love comes to a woman like 
Merrill, it comes only once, but then it owns 
her, heart and soul. It never occurred to her 
to question ‘‘Lord Jack.” If her opinion of 
him could have been analyzed, it would 
probably have been something like this: 


73 


MERRILL. 


^‘John Montfort is my ideal of a noble, 
manly man. His worldly connections? I 
care nothing for them, for I love him!” 

Under the tender touch of love Merrill 
grew more beautiful daily, and daily “Lord 
Jack” watched her with the ever-growing 
pain in his heart. He no longer thought of 
himself. His only idea was to spare her all 
pain. The time was long past when his de- 
parture would have helped matters. To go 
away now would only be to hasten the blow. 
What Merrill would do when she discovered 
his identity, he dared not think. She had 
told him about Helen and “Lord Jack” and it 
hurt him terribly to hear Merrill express so 
vehemently her hatred and contempt for the 
erring ‘ ‘Lord J ack. ’ ’ If Helen could only have 
known it, she was being avenged a thousand 
times. 

“Lord Jack’s” injured ankle was now a 
thing of the past, and he joined Merrill in all 
her expeditions, both on horseback and into the 
ocean. The worthy Pierre had managed to 
obtain a horse for “Lord Jack,” and although 
it was not as good an animal as Merrill’s, it did 
very well for the purpose to which it was put. 
“Lord Jack” called him Alexander, because, 


74 


MERRILL. 


as he solemnly told Merrill, he always felt 
like exclaiming after laboriously mounting 
the high, sharp back, ‘‘Are there no other 
worlds for me to conquer?^’ She informed 
him decisively that she did not see the point 
of the joke at all. But several days afterward 
he found her laughing at the idea, and so 
forgave her for the original snub. Merrill 
had become very fond of Jacky and ‘Xord 
Jack’’ took this fact as a good omen and tried 
to defend the supposedly absent “Lord Jack” 
to the best of his ability. 

“You admit that you like Jacky in spite 
of his name,” he argued craftily. “Then 
why can’t you give the original “Lord Jack” 
the benefit of the doubt, and allow that all his 
qualities may not be tied up in his name?” 

“Ah! but you see,” Merrill had said in an- 
swer, “I have called him Jacky from the very 
beginning — and plain Jacky is much more 
hke John than like ‘Lord Jack’,” and Merrill 
blushed beautifully as “Lord Jack” took her 
in his strong, loving arms and whispered the 
familiar tender words in her willing ear. 

On this day they had set out for a long ride, 
but the excessive heat caused them to repent 
of their plan and start back for home earlier 


75 


MERRILL. 


than they had intended. As Pierre received 
their horses he whispered something to 
Merrill, and she turned to “Lord Jack” with 
a cry of delight. 

“John, Helen is here, inside waiting for 
me. Now I am perfectly happy. Come 
quickly!” she cried, seizing his hand, “I can 
not wait to see her!” 

“Lord Jack” leaned heavily on Alexander 
and turned pale as death. It had come at 
last, as he knew it must. Well, at least he 
could take it like a man ! And unconsciously 
squaring his shoulders, “Lord Jack” followed 
Merrill into the hall. Helen sprang to meet 
her, and for a moment “Lord Jack” was un- 
noticed while the two women welcomed each 
other. Helen had aged years in the past 
weeks. The shock of “Lord Jack’s” de- 
parture had been too much for her and she 
had been very ill. All this she was telling 
Merrill now, when “Lord Jack” interrupted. 

hope you are wholly recovered now, 
Helen,” he said quietly. Both Merrill and 
Helen turned in astonishment, Helen at that 
familiar voice, and Merrill because “Lord 
Jack” had never mentioned to her his know- 
ing Helen. 


76 


MERRILL. 


For a moment, which seemed a century to 
him ‘Xord Jack” and Helen looked at each 
other. Then Helen took a quick step towards 
him: 

“Jack, what are you doing here? You 
never told me that you knew Merrill!” 
Quick suspicion stopped her for an instant. 
Then she turned to the astounded Merrill; 
“You — you have deceived me all this time. 
While I was ill, almost dying, you and my 
saintly husband were laughing at me, and 
using my absence to good purpose! Merrill, 
how could I have ever trusted you so ! There 
is nothing more I can say. You are a fit pair 
— and I hate you, hate you!” 

Helen rushed from the hall and left them 
alone. MerrilPs long training as an actress 
stood her in good stead now. In spite of the 
shock which had destroyed at one blow her 
happiness and faith in human nature, Merrill 
stood there outwardly unmoved, except for her 
eyes. They would never smile again. “Lord 
Jack” did not attempt to explain or condone. 
Taking one stride he threw himself at her 
feet and raised the hem of her skirt to his lips. 

Merrill looked down at him with unutter- 
able sorrow and — yes, unutterable love in 


77 


MERRILL. 


those purple eyes. She had no thought of 
Helenas mad injustice and insults. She only 
saw ^Xord Jack” at her feet, shaking with 
great sobs. The sight of this almost shook her 
composure. Leaning down she lightly kissed 
his forehead. ‘‘God forgive you, ‘Lord 
Jack’ !” she said, and left him kneeling there. 

Hi ^ 

After she had gone, “Lord Jack”, with a 
look of ineffable suffering stamped upon his 
face, rose and went to his room. A short time 
after he heard unaccustomed sounds outside. 
He looked out and saw a large, white automo- 
bile just starting. “Lord Jack” threw himself 
on his bed and buried his face in his hands. 
“God forgive me!” he murmured. 


78 




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